Breakdown
by woodsbaile
Summary: Dean knows he can't break down, and he strives to keep his cool. But sometimes, he wishes he could just give in. SPOILERS throughout Croatoan. Oneshot.


Disclaimers: "Supernatural" doesn't belong to me, but to the awesome Mr. Kripke ♥ Point is, I love the man too much to ever steal anything from him. XD  
Spoilers: all the way through "Croatoan".  
Notes: Based upon and inspired by Jack Johnson's song, "Breakdown" (which of course belongs to him... duh)  
Warnings: Chick-flick moment ahead! If you're disturbed by those as much as me and Dean are, do not read this. (and I tried to avoid it, but there was just no way out of it this time sighs)

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(further note: I reread this, but due to the hour -5.30am over here-, I make no guarantees. Please excuse any errors. ;-) ) 

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**Breakdown**

_I hope this old train breaks down  
then I could take a walk around  
and, see what there is to see  
time is just a melody_

_"I don't know, man. I just think maybe we oughta... go to Grand Canyon."_

Dean's never seen the Grand Canyon before, and he meant it, what he said to Sam, about taking a break and go there. But the hunt goes on, steadily fast like a train, and for the first time, Dean wishes they would slow down, and give themselves the time to open their eyes onto the light instead of just exploring darkness.  
For the first time, Dean realizes the hunt's swallowing them whole, and he can let it take him, but he's not going to let it have Sam, as well.

_With all the people in the street  
walking fast as their feet can take them  
I just roll through town  
And though my window's got a view  
Well the frame I'm looking through  
seems to have no concern for now_

Sometimes he feels like a bystander. Drifting, watching people laugh and cry and generally live as if it doesn't concern him. A little boy's playing with his dog in the street. There was a time when the sight would have him smiling, but now he can't push past the memory of Sam asking for a puppy, and the guilt in his father's eyes as he tries to explain that they aren't "normal" enough to have one.  
Dean wishes he could detach himself from the pain like he's detached himself from everything else.

_I need this  
old train to break down  
oh please just  
let me please break down_

Dean wishes he could stop. Pull the Impala over, fall to his knees in soft grass and retch. He wishes he could double over, and spew out everything he has inside. He wishes he could break down. He wishes Sam could see it, and tell him it's okay.

_Well this engine screams out loud  
Centipede gonna crawl westbound  
so I dont even make a sound  
Because its gunna sting me when I leave this town_

The Impala roars as he turns the key. They're leaving yet another town behind. The place holds no meaning to Dean, and he wishes it was the Grand Canyon that he's seeing in the rearview mirror, instead of nameless buildings and faceless strangers. He wants to scream, but he knows he can't, and so he turns up the radio and bits down on his lip as he drives.

_And all the people in the street  
that I'll never get to meet  
if these tracks don't bend somehow  
and I got no time  
that I got to get to  
where I don't need to be_

Sam thinks there are few things in the world that his ever-charming brother enjoys more than a one-night stand with a gorgeous woman. But sometimes Dean has wished he could stay more, and get to know them better. Sometimes he would have liked to know what Amy's favorite color is, or which ice cream flavor makes Kathy's taste buds sing. He has been curious about what makes Helena cry and puts a smile on Jane's face.  
Sometimes Dean has wished he would be driving away with one hand out of the window, waving, while a friend waves back.  
But the hunt goes on, and he can't waste time in places where he isn't needed anymore. So the Impala keeps hitting the road, time after time, following tracks that will never bend.

_I want to break on down  
but I can't stop now  
let me break on down_

Often, Dean stays awake at night, and watches Sam sleep. He doesn't think his brother's aware of how defenseless he looks while sleeping, and Dean wishes he could let his own defenses crumble a little. Sam twitches in his sleep, mumbling broken words that bare his soul. Dean remembers every one of them, and they burn like fire in his memory. He knows the sounds coming from Sam's lips would be far less anguished if it wasn't for him, and he wishes he could break something; smash a mirror with his fist, hoping his broken reflection would shatter both his guilt and Sam's pain.  
Dean knows he's already broken, but he wonders whether he's broken enough to deserve fixing.

_But you can't stop nothing  
if you got no control  
of the thoughts in your mind  
that you kept and you know_

_"You're tailspinning, man! And you refuse to talk about it, and you won't let me help you!"_

Dean knows Sam is right. He can feel himself falling further and further down. He's tried to stop the fall, but the thoughts and emotions have been swirling inside of him for months, tightly bound to his chest. He can't let them go, but he can't control them, either, and he wonders how long he has left before the fall ends and he comes crashing down.

_you don't know nothing  
but you don't need to know  
the wisdom's in the trees  
not the glass windows_

He has tried to keep Sam behind the glass, as sheltered as he could. But things have spun out of his control, and before Dean knew it, it wasn't up to him anymore and everything he's ever known has proven useless.  
Sometimes, ignorance's better than knowledge. But when he finally told Sam what was his right to know, the weight of the secret too heavy for him to carry any further, and his brother looked at him like he would a betrayer, Dean realized that he's made another mistake, and ignorance in this case should never have existed.  
He wonders whether he'll ever stop screwing up.

_You can't stop wishing  
If you don't let go  
of the things that you find  
and you lose, and you know  
you keep on rolling  
put the moment on hold  
the frame's too bright  
so put the blinds down low_

Dean has stopped wishing a long time ago. He's learned to let go of every dream that might somehow pop up into his head. He would crush it like a beetle, feeling it crack under his stomping foot, its life put down before it can crawl too deep into his soul.  
Sam's smile has always been bright with dreams he would refuse to let go of like his older brother does. They're faded now, but they're still there. So when he first pulled the blinds down low to protect himself from the brightness of Sam's wishes, Dean left a crack open, to ensure that they'd always be there. Now he peers through it, and tries to make sure Sam never lets go.

_I need this  
old train to break down  
oh please just  
let me please break down_

Dean doesn't know how it happens. One minute he's sitting at the table leafing through his Dad's journal, the next he's kneeling on the sickly green motel floor, his body still and rigid with pain, his jaw clenched.  
He's breaking down, and he doesn't know how to stop it. 

_oh please just  
let me please break down  
I want to break on down  
but I can't stop now_

Sam forgets about every ounce of rage he could still be feeling towards Dean the moment he steps through the door and sees him unmoving on the floor, his body as taut as he's about to explode.  
It takes Sam a look to know that's exactly what is about to happen, and two long strides to be kneeling in front of his brother.  
Dean doesn't say anything. A single tear rolls down his cheek, and Sam's pretty sure he's not entirely aware of it. He's always thought nothing would hurt more than Dean's broken whisper of his name that day after Angela, when he had stopped the car and bared his soul; or than witnessing Dean's raw pain as the horrid weight of their father's bargain settled fully on his shoulders after the crossroad.  
He had been wrong. This hurts even worse, this silent breakdown. Because Dean explodes quietly, without making a sound, and when Sam reaches out and pulls him forcefully into his arms, the silence grows heavier, enveloping them both.  
Dean is so tense it feels like holding a board. When his arms come up and cling to his biceps, Sam breaks a little.

"I'm sorry."

It comes out choked, soft and fragile as a dry leaf. But Sam hears it, hears every single thing Dean is sorry for in those three words, and he tightens his hold a little.

"It's okay."

And he means it. About everything. It's okay that Dean hasn't told him the secret sooner. It's okay that they lead this life. It's okay that he's not in Stanford. It's okay that it's just the two of them, as long as they have each other.

It's okay to break down.

**.FIN.**


End file.
